Healing Touch
by TheAlphaWrites
Summary: Isaac has a problem with touching and being touched. The pack try to help. Stiles/Derek. Lydia/Jackson. Scott/Allison. Erica/Boyd.


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Written from a prompt on Teen Wolf kink meme.**

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Isaac didn't like to be touched.

It was something that he'd always avoided, or at least, tried to – because, in his experience, touching never led anywhere good. It was easy to evade normally, he just kept close to himself and worked his frustrations out on the lacrosse field, when touching was all part of the game and he understood the rules, but now, it was different. It was harder. He was part of a pack, a good pack, and don't get him wrong, he was happy to be there, but it was hard to ignore his phobia, his _weakness_, when it always seemed to be appearing right in front of his face.

He never mentioned it to the others, and when Scott and Jackson would play fight in the front yard of the Hale house and urged him to join them, or when Boyd, Erica and Stiles would end up curled up together on one of their sofas on movie nights and they'd left space for him to squeeze in, he would smile and politely decline. They didn't really push it, although he could tell they wanted to.

Isaac was content in sitting, arms wrapped around his legs, and watching everything from a safe distance, except for those few times when it would hit home that he couldn't just barrel into the mess of bodies and seek comfort, even when he really needed it. He tended to push the thought down whenever it arose. It was a better alternative than dwelling on the issue.

But now, he couldn't escape it. All eyes were on him, wide and confused and worried, and his heart was pounding in his chest, and all he wanted to do was sink into the ground and never resurface.

It was an accident, of course. He had been relaxed; his guard had been down, his reflexes not fast enough. It was another pack night, when everyone crowded into the living room of the renovated house and, that night anyway, play video games. Admittedly, Isaac had been especially excited when Stiles brought the Wii around that day. He'd never played before, never really had the chance, and the eagerness that Stiles explained the controls for him to play Mario Karts was contagious. He had been winning, much to the annoyance of Scott, who loudly announced that he must be cheating because "no one has ever beaten me at this game before!" The 1st place music played and he'd grinned widely when the girls clapped and whooped and laughed, and how Scott had grumbled under his breath at his defeat, and how Jackson took great pleasure in teasing his co-captain about that fact, and Derek had just watched them with this fond look on his face that Isaac imagined would be how a proud father looks at his children.

And then the hand had landed heavily on his shoulder, and he couldn't get away fast enough.

Boyd blinked wide eyed at him, uncertain about what he had done. "Um, sorry man didn't mean to sneak up on you…"

"…I-its fine," Isaac managed to stammer out, his voice and smile strained in such a way that you didn't have to be a werewolf to know he was lying.

Alison hovered at his side, her expression worried. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look-"

Her hand reached out to him and he couldn't stop himself from flinching. She withdrew her hand quickly, biting her bottom lip in concern.

Isaac's eyes dragged over each of them, their faces peering at him with curiosity and alarm and worry, and he felt the blush of embarrassment rising from beneath the collar of his shirt. He ducked his head to avoid their gazes, and muttered something about needing the toilet – any excuse to leave the room.

When he finally gathered up the courage to leave the bathroom nearly twenty minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened. Well, none of the pack mentioned it, just offering him welcoming smiles as he entered. He took a seat on the arm chair, reverting to his default position once more, and watched the rest of the pack play. At the time, he was grateful that they had completely looked over his social blunder, until he realised they hadn't.

They weren't overly obvious – although, he was sure that was Lydia's or Boyd's doing because no one else seemed to have a subtle bone in their body – but it still happened. They were touching him, like seeking out all and every reason to do so.

It was small at first, stuff Isaac wouldn't have even noticed unless it was pointed out to him. The brief brush of arms when Erica walked beside him, the motherly straightening of his collar in the mornings by Stiles' insistence, the touching of fingertips when Lydia throws her books into his arms when they come out of their chemistry class; Jackson would nudge him in the corridors in some kind of silent greeting, Scott would help him attach the protective layers in his lacrosse uniform, and Boyd would guide him to their next class or out of the school with one hand hovering, just barely touching, on the small of his back. Like he said, he wouldn't have noticed it at first; it just seemed like normal, everyday contact.

And then it increased just a little bit more. Stiles' hand would find itself buried in his curls on some occasions, increasing as time went on, just to run his hands through it. Erica started helping him dress in the mornings with this wicked smile on her face that told him he had better not argue with her. Lydia and Allison would take it in turns to grab his hands, for the smallest amount of times, to lead him somewhere or show him something. Derek would scent him, random touches here and there when it was their turn to have dinner or when he passed him the hallways.

It was probably when Lydia and Jackson fell asleep beside him, curled into him in fact, that he started to suspect what was happening and, perhaps what held his attention most, was how much it _didn't bother him_.

Isaac tensed a little when Jackson's head lolled into his arm. He watched as the other wolf practically nuzzled the skin in his sleep and how he tightened his grip on Lydia, and he waited for the panic to settle in. But it didn't. It felt a little awkward – he'd never had anyone fall asleep against him before and wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to do – but nothing that made him want to recoil, that made him want to shy away from the contact. Slowly, he relaxed, shifting his arm slightly so that Jackson could rest on his stomach, something that was probably much more comfortable than his arm. He breathed out slowly.

He tore his gaze away from the slumbering couple, and glanced almost guiltily around the room. Allison and Scott were sharing the arm chair, awake but too entranced in the television screen to glance his way. Erica was asleep on the second sofa, pressed into Boyd's chest, who was sleepily focused on the movie, his hand moving absentmindedly through her blond hair. Stiles and Derek shared the second half of the sofa, the younger boy asleep in his mate's lap – but Derek's eyes were on him intently. He didn't say anything, merely offered him a slight smile and nodded with this kind of approving pride in his expression. Isaac gave his Alpha a hesitant smile in return, at a loss of what to say.

The real benefits of their efforts didn't really arise for a few more weeks. The Sheriff had a double shift that night and Stiles had offered up his home for the pack's usage (they rotated between the pack houses whenever could). Pillows and duvets had been dragged from the linen closet, and were thrown across the wooden floors of the living room causing it to resemble a makeshift den, something that appealed the animalistic side of their personalities.

Isaac watched from the doorway, holding the last of the pillows that he had been instructed to bring down in his arms, as Stiles tried (and mostly failed) to gather the attention of the rest of the pack, who would chattering and shoving each other whenever they got the chance. With a roll of his eyes and muttering, "Fine then, you can all suffer through Star Wars for all I care," he crouched down to put the DVD into the player.

It was then that Isaac saw his chance.

Stiles let out a winded '_oof_' when the body of the sixteen year old werewolf hit him and landed on the cushioned bedding beneath him. He blinked up, surprised by the unexpected turn of events, and Isaac grinned down at him, his face lit up with excitement and playfulness that he rarely showed. Stiles' wanted nothing more than to make a big deal out of it, because it was, it really was, but he suppressed the urge and instead reacted how he would if it were any other pup on any other day.

"Jesus, what's it with you guys and rugby tackling me? Do I look like a football to you? Oh, maybe I do, a human football especially made for werewolves to tackle, that's just fantastic," he grumbled to himself, trying to wiggle free.

Isaac yipped and nudged the underside of Stiles' jaw gently, before licking a trail along his cheek. Stiles jerked at the lick and scowled, managing to free his hand long enough to wipe the wetness of his face.

"Urgh, werewolf spit," he muttered under his breath, although he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. Reaching up with his freed hand, he tugged affectionately on the strands of hair and Isaac leant into the touch.

Then a body landed beside him, a strong grip tugging him reluctantly to lie beside Stiles. He threw his leg over his lap in childish protest, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Erica laid across his waist, grinning widely in greeting and Boyd appeared at her side, slotting himself between Stiles' and Isaac's' leg. Scott appeared on his other side, nuzzling into his best friend's stomach. Jackson used his thigh as a cushion and Lydia was spread out across both boys.

"Seriously you guys, I wanna put the movie on! No puppy piles!" Stiles objected weakly, unable to move, "Derek, do something about your kids!"

The Alpha stalked closer and growled warningly at Scott and Jackson. They both made whines of objection but reluctantly obliged, allowing the older man to fit in beside his mate. Strong arms wrapped around Stile's waist, tugging him closer, and Derek nudged the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Stiles' scowled slightly. "When I said 'do something', I didn't mean this…"

Derek chuckled. "Just sleep, _Mom_."

Isaac's eyes fluttered closed with satisfaction when Derek scented him, fingers followed the line of his jaw.

Isaac doesn't like being touched, that's something that's was widely accepted. Unless, of course, you're pack – then he _needs _to be touched.


End file.
